


Mousetrap

by ThrowTheDice



Series: Cat and Mouse [3]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Stabbing, oof this is not as sexy as the other two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrowTheDice/pseuds/ThrowTheDice
Summary: Final fic in the Cat and Mouse trilogy.Written in response to a prompt from someone-who-is-there on tumblr"I kinda feel bad for Michael in a weird way because he didn't even get to hit her at least once... I wonder what would happen if they were to met again in a trial 5 days after this encounter…"The cat always wins in the end.





	Mousetrap

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, mousies! The cat always wins in the end. This is the last installation in what I have affectionately dubbed my Cat and Mouse series, and it never would have happened without @someone-who-is-there. This one is shorter than the other two and not as sexy, but my lovely muse and I agree that Mikey wouldn’t let you go again ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Really, Laurie? The basement?” You grumbled to yourself. Coldwind Farm was never a good time for you, and when your fellow survivors insisted on hanging out around the farmhouse and getting themselves hooked in the basement, it was even less fun.

You decided to cut Laurie some slack. Michael was the killer in this trial and had been breathing down her neck since the beginning. The Entity had some sick sense of humor throwing the two of you into a trial with Michael. He had it out for the blonde anyway, combine that with you and your penchant for escaping him, and it spelled out a brutal trial for everyone.

The stairs creaked under the weight of your slow steps. You could hear the sound of Laurie whimpering and could not stem the tide of memories and phantom pain that overtook you. You could feel the excruciating tearing of skin and muscle as the hook pierced your shoulder. You never grew accustomed to it, and it was never less painful.

You knew that you had taken too long when you got to the bottom of the stairs and saw the blonde girl struggling to fend off the spider-like appendages of the Entity. You moved in towards the hooks to let her down, expecting to see that look of relief that always came when you rescued another survivor. However, Laurie did not look relieved to see you. In fact, she looked downright horrified.

“No! No!” She cried, “What are you doing here? You need to run!”

Her warnings came too late. As you looked at her with no small amount of confusion, you failed to see the shape that emerged from a shadowy corner. He had been watching you from the first moment you rounded the bend in the stairs. He would not let you get away this time.

You shrieked when the blade of the knife carved down your back, and Laurie shouted in a mix of fear and despair. You fell heavily to the dusty ground. Pain-- albeit dulled compared to the angry burning from your bleeding back-- radiated from your shoulder. You watched blood drip down your arm to intermingle with the sawdust on the floor as you attempted to push yourself to your feet. 

You glanced back to look at Michael. He was as impassive as ever, his mask the same blank slate you had come to know almost intimately. He stared at you intently, head tilted ever so slightly and eyes seemingly focused on the crimson soaking through your shirt. His shoulders rose and fell in time with the weight of his breathing which echoed in the hollow space between his face and its facade.

You tore your eyes away from him to look up at Laurie. You found yourself at her feet, close enough to reach out and touch her, but too far to be of any assistance. She was fighting a losing battle, more and more of her blood splattering and dripping onto the floor alongside your own. Soon she would be too weak to fight anymore and you could do nothing to stop this inevitable eventuality. You had both died in trials just like this one time and time again, and while it seemed a simple thing to sacrifice yourself, it was something else entirely to watch the people that had become your friends murdered at the behest of the eldritch horror that ruled over you all.

With a final scream from her and a weak sound of protest from you, Laurie Strode took her last breath in the trial as the blackened, gnarled claws of the Entity impaled her, spraying you with her blood. As her form turned incorporeal and was drawn upwards into the roiling, spiraling portal the Entity had torn its way through, you were left in the hushed, muffled quiet of the empty basement. Your pained whimpering and Michael’s heavy breathing were the only sounds left to fill the space.

Just a handful of trials prior, at the Coal Tower he had been so rough with you but you had unashamedly and unabashedly enjoyed his harshness. Before that, he had made you feel things you hadn’t known yourself capable of feeling in Haddonfield. Now, you knew that there was only one thing he still wanted-- no,  _ needed  _ to do with you. He had gotten close in your last encounter, but at the last moment you had managed to slip through his blood stained fingers.

There would be no distractions this time, no one to save you with completed generators and opening gates. He would slake his bloodlust through you, after so much time and frustration. You were a mouse in a trap and he was the cat that had grown tired of playing with you.

It did not inspire that same heated wave of desire in you when her reached for your prone form. The hands that had brought so much pleasure in the past now sought only to bring pain. When his fingers circled your throat, you couldn’t help but to think of how this was the point in your encounters where he would normally shift his intentions to have his wicked way with you and you would welcome it. You were still sore from your run-in at the MacMillan Estate, but you would have been more than happy to have a repeat performance, especially if it meant that you wouldn’t be killed.

He lifted you into the air the same way you had seen him do with Claudette in the streets of Lampkin Lane, and you struggled weakly against him as you had seen your friend do. His grip was iron, and you knew that he could have crushed your airway with ease if he so wished. He held you suspended just a little above eye-level, looking up at you with the same blank stare as always. This time, however, you imagined that you could see triumph there. He won this round, and all you could do was accept your defeat.

The adrenaline and fear flowing through your veins stifled the immediate pain of the knife entering your stomach. You wheezed and immediately felt the blood bubble up the back of your throat. The sound of the knife being pulled from your flesh echoed in your head. You clenched your teeth and kept your eyes firmly on Michael’s. He was watching your face with the same intensity, soaking in and memorizing the details of your every flinch and reaction, drunk on the satisfaction of finally catching you.

The second stab went in just under your ribs and forced a scream from you. You stretched your hand out towards him and he expected you to hit him ineffectively again, to attempt escape even as your life was drained from you, but your trembling, bloodied fingers merely grazed the white surface of his mask. Crimson overflowed from your mouth and dripped down your chin. The wounds he had inflicted spilled the liquid gore over everything.

He watched the light in your eyes dim and fade, just as your breathing slowed to harsh wheezing and then nothing. Once there was nothing left of you but an empty shell, he dropped your body to the ground. The force of the impact splattered ruby droplets and kicked up a cloud of sawdust.

Michael looked down at your still corpse. For a moment, everything was silent. Even the voices were still and quiet. His mind was like a tomb, and for that endless moment only you occupied it.

Then all sorts of sensations hit him. A deep, humming satisfaction settled inside him, and his body buzzed with pleasure. Your blood coated his hands and soaked into the fabric of his coveralls, causing the material to stick to his chest and abdomen. He ran a hand over the wetness, disappointed to find that it was already beginning to cool.

He cast one final look at your unmoving body before turning his back and leaving. There were two other survivors left and he was eager to complete this trial so that he could move on to the next one. The voices kicked back up into their shrieking crescendo as he mounted the stairs, they were frenzied with the knowledge that he could kill you again, and again, and again. He could have you in other ways too, and this knowledge stoked a hunger in him, driving him to finish off the last two survivors that much faster.


End file.
